The Nightchild
by Khyrie of the Four Winds
Summary: A dark elf thief named Tahna has been on the run from something for many years and now has been imprisoned in the walls of the Helgen dungeons for having an wandered across a few stormcloaks along the road and imperials giving chase thought her an accomplice. She now ponders ways to escape from the keep quietly without mustering attention-


Nightchild – Daughter of Cheydinhal

by Mushmallow/That Chick With The Cat/Khyrie

Heat, that's what Tahna felt. The sensation of sitting in front of a fire but the burning was uncontained. She saw the flames spread through hearth and stone feeling it lick against her skin causing burns and blisters and through the flames she saw a large creature as black as midnight with eyes burning red with unabated rage . . and hunger. A fear shoots through her blood as it boils and curdles. Flames consuming her muscle and bones until-

…...

A gust of cold wind over her face snaps her out of the deep sleep she was experiencing. She was in prison. Imperials caught her trying to sneak across the border a few days ago. In the prison cell here in Helgen seemed a far cry from the inferno infested nightmares she was dreaming of nonstop for the past five weeks. Ever since her exile and escape from her home in Cyrodil, she'd had very little time for sleep.

She shared this prison cell with two others. Stormcloak soldiers. They ranted night and day that the Empire was a traitor for forsaking the worship of Talos. And casting off all he stood for. And more often than not the Stormcloaks, when they couldn't shout at the old man or his lout of an assistant, would turn curses at her.

'Dirty thief' they would say 'your entire kind is a joke' and other such bilge passed their lips and poluted the air. Going on about how they would rather make love to an argonian or a khajiit than a female of her kind. No sound from them today yet. Though she was sure that sooner or later she'd hear something from them. They were nothing if not obnoxious. They talk about glory and honor and yet she's pretty sure that Windhelm was the anti-dunmer capital of the world. She counted her lucky stars she'd never seen it. Or spent time there.

She heard footsteps along the causeway. She dare not peek her head out because the inquisitor liked to shock unruly prisoners who did. But the silence would not last long. "Finally here old man?" she heard one of the stormcloak prisoners shout. "Good, I was getting sick of smelling this dunmer wench."

A noise of pain escapes her next-door cellmate which caused a sadistic smile to partially creep across her face. They should follow her example once in a while. The warden and torturer appreciated silence, especially when the old man was trying to read, or enjoy his lunch. She hardly remembered any beatings since she was stuffed in here. A rowdy prisoner gets rowdy treatment.

"Your lips are flapping like a housewife gossiping at teatime." said the torturer. "Hush and come quietly . ."

Imperials may be a pain in the ass, but at least if you were a complient prisoner, and weren't wanted for murder, they treated you decent if you kept your mouth shut. Thieves got it a little worse but then again, a good thief is never caught. Even when caught for something else. The screams of the stormcloak prisoners down the hall helped spread that dark smile across her face longer. Naughty boys, if you'd kept quiet like she did you wouldn't get punished like this.

Tahna was many things, mercenary, bodyguard, and late-sleeper. But she was also a good thief. She could burst through an average lock in less than half a minute and swipe whatever valuables were inside in less time than that, and she would be gone before anyone knew any better. Though she did have some boundaries. Never steal from someone who needs it more than you. Assholes were perfectly fine to steal from. That was always acceptable. It was like having a party every day, and you were the guest of honor!

The larger man came back to her bars and passed a tray of bread and broth through the bars to her. As the custom of understanding between a good prisoner and warden, she stayed silent in taking it. The opportunity would come to leave. And she'd take it in the flash of an eye when it did.

Bread and broth soon scarfed down, looking out of the small bars. She saw it was still far too early for her tastes. So, placing the wooden plate by the bars for 'lug' to come back and take it she curled on the bedroll again.

…...

The dream came clearer now. Standing at the foot of a massive peak, looking up a long series of steps, her curiosity gains the better of her. What is at the top? Beginning to climb she realises that no matter how many steps she takes, it feels like she makes no progress. She turns to running but that too does nothing. Turning to give up she sees herself at the foot of the mountain. Looking back at herself with disturbingly blank eyes.

"Deserter." she heard herself mumble. "Deserter. Coward."

"I had to run."

"Deserter."

"T- have –e- me too." she defended though some words did not escape her throat, as if her voice had silenced them.

"Deserter." her other self was looking more fearsome and wraithlike.

"-e was there. - would have -" She felt frightened as her other self sped close to her. Again feeling flames at her cheeks and bones.

"DESERTER!"

…...

Tahna jumps awake not merely because of the nightmare, but because this time, she DID feel heat! Like her dream before this. Standing up to look out, she saw that a horror of a sight awaited her. Helgen engulfed in flames! The horrendous roar of a monster right out of the deepest pits of oblivion. And she was trapped still in her cell. It was a death-trap, and she'd be roasted alive or crushed by the collapsing fort.

She began reaching for a hidden lockpick in her boot compartment when she heard voices down the hall. Peeking her head out she heard signs of a struggle, And many shouts of angry stormcloaks and imperials. With the sounds of slashes and bludgeonings came sounds of death. People, of one side or another, were getting slaughtered. She hesitated. If the stormcloaks had won, would they butcher her for amusment, or just leave her there to burn, or get crushed? Azura forbid that her two semi-cellmates were among the winning side.

Much to her relief though, it sounds like the Imperials had won the struggle. Hearing the old man talking to a person named Hadvar. From the sound of things apparently when this chaos erupted the stormcloaks had used that confusion to either escape, or attack their torturers. It wouldn't be long until the voice that identified itself with Hadvar, said that they had to move. And leave.

A dragon, was attacking the keep.

So that's what beast was outside making a tremendous mess! Well, she heard Hadvar and the 'lug' come towards her direction, after the old man mention bitterly that there was no way out this way. When finally her eyes caught the imperials. She waved! Hysterically at that. It was so hot in there.

"You there, do you have the key to this cell?"

The lug nods- "Yes but, she's supposed to- I mean, she's a thief. She can't just be let-"

"I don't care what she is, who she was, or what she's done. Unless, she's with the stormcloaks." He eyes her warily.

Tahna could do nothing but make an offended, sour face and spit inside her cell.

"Didn't think so." he said. A click of the key and at last, freedom. She couldn't wait. "You want to stay alive? Stick close if you want to stay that way." Hadvar unties her binds as well, and the three of them run into the depths of the cells and past crumbled wall into a cave.

Hadvar had given Tahna instructions to follow and stick close, she could do that. Though she felt naked without a weapon or armor. It had to do. Prisoner rags weren't the most comfortable thing but, she had delt with it for the most part. They hushed when they heard stormcloak voices ahead. She could sneak away in the confusion, but if the imperials survived they'd remember her face.

That would be problematic, being wanted for desertion . . desertion. She tried not to remember the nightmare. However, such thoughts escaped her mind, because when they examined the cave, she saw the faces of the two stormcloaks which verbally tortured her for weeks. And for the first time in weeks, he spoke in a soft, whisper. "I can help take care of them, let me." In the good eyes of the Empire, she'd be helping an imperial officer, escape. Though lug back there probably knew her true intentions.

Hadvar nodded, and counting the bodies, so far they only saw five. Lug could handle two of them easy. But Tahna was going straight for her teasers she slipped by and dodged under the bridge of the shallow creek, Waiting for the two to begin advancing on the lug, while Hadvar dealt with another sword-bearer. Sneaking up behind the first one, she effortlessly takes his sword from his sheathe before he could grab it himself.

And with it, she plunged it into his back. His death gurgle alerted his ally, the nord turns to see the dark-elf female killing his comrade. Moreso with that wicked smile across her face. "Dunmer witch! I knew we should have killed you in your cell! You imperial lover."

"Oh spare me your tender feelings." She replied snarkily. "We never had a lasting relationship anyways." she prepared to riposte his incoming attack when she felt the need to step back. Two more Stormcloaks by, what seemed like an exit. And they had bows, a long-ranged advantage.

The snarl of her second tormentor shocked through the cave. She'd not be able to dodge any attacks from either or. So take an arrow, or suffer the blade of the fool? Then she noticed that the fool archers were standing in a rather shining pool of water. Idiots probably didn't realise it was oil.

She managed to position herself between them and tried to think of something to anger her dancing 'partner'.

"You know your god and king Ulfric's probably gotten gobbled up by that dragon upstairs, though if the beast decides to regurgitate him I wouldn't blame it. Stormcloaks tend to stink of ten month old cheese and milk. Bad for one's stomach."

That got him, in blind rage the nord swung, and Tahna backstepped! All of them were now in the oil. However one arrow managed to fly . . it clipped her right cheek, and punched a hole in her ear. Stinging and hissing in pain she manages to avoid the oil, and knowing a small fire spell, set it, and the stormcloaks in it, Ablaze.

The lug and Hadvar had finished with the other three to see this spectacle. The stormcloaks screamed and begged for the fire to go out. And they were answered by an arrow from Hadvar, and a giant blade of the lug crashing down on them. A dark seeping satisfaction crept through Tahna, as her tormentors got what they deserved.

Hadvar said he would press on and Tahna was going with him, but a roar overhead and more fire, and the lug lowers his head. He was going to go back and check on the old man. Tahna knew the implications of this act. If he did go back there was a possibility he could die. She didn't like the fact she was caught. But she was treated better than other prisoners.

So before he left their sight completely she called out "Thank you for the broth! And the bread." The lug pauses in the doorway, sees the honesty in her eyes, and grunts a nod, before going out of her sight . . for good.

Hurrying through the caves, dealing with frost spiders and sneaking past a bear, the imperial Hadvar, and Tahna, made it to the outside. Bright and fresh air hits her face, and her wounds. And all seem to be forgotten, until a black shadow of scales and wings passes over them.


End file.
